


Facing the Past

by enigmaticblue



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-03-30
Updated: 2010-03-30
Packaged: 2017-10-08 12:48:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,447
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/75806
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/enigmaticblue/pseuds/enigmaticblue
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The past has a tendency to bite you in the ass unless you turn around and face it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Facing the Past

Dawn knew she was being followed. It was her own fault for putting the paper off so long that she needed to stay in the library until it closed, rather than being able to get her research done and head home before dark. There had been so much going on lately, though—so many things to think about that seemed to be more interesting and more important than what her teachers wanted her to know.

The biggest issue was Spike—and what she was supposed to feel towards him.

Buffy seemed intent on forgiving and forgetting, and Dawn honestly didn’t understand how her sister could do that after what he’d done. Well, what he’d tried to do, but it seemed like the same thing in Dawn’s mind.

She just didn’t understand Buffy. Or Buffy and Spike. Or why Spike would think that a soul would do anything for him. On the other hand, Buffy seemed curiously intent on _not_ blaming Spike for what had happened between the two of them.

Dawn was beginning to think that maybe Buffy liked Spike a hell of a lot more than she wanted to let on, or maybe it was just the soul thing. The Slayer had always put a lot of stock in a person having a soul; Dawn wasn’t so certain she could see the logic in that.

All this explained why she didn’t have her paper done yet, because she’d been too busy thinking over those knotty problems and chasing after a boy in a magical letterman jacket. She was even more convinced than ever that there was no point to romance when it only led to heartache and insanity.

Witness Spike and Buffy.

Dawn glanced over her shoulder nervously, once again sensing a shadow. She probably should have called Buffy or one of the others to pick her up, but she hated being the tag-along little sister who had to be protected every step of the way.

She picked up her pace, hurrying along at a half-run. A grunt from behind had her whirling, and she saw a dark shape disappear behind a hedge.

Dawn swallowed hard, torn between confronting the danger and running for home. She backed up a couple of steps, clutching the strap of her backpack.

“Shouldn’t you be runnin’ home about now?”

Instead of feeling relief at the sight of Spike emerging from the hedge, Dawn experienced a bolt of anger so intense she could hardly breathe. “What the hell are you doing?” she demanded. “Were you following me?”

“Was following your dusty friend,” Spike replied. “I caught sight of him earlier, an’ I knew he was hunting. Turned out he was huntin’ you.”

Dawn swallowed her angry words, knowing that she probably owed Spike a thank you. Not that he was going to get it. “Fine.” She turned and began walking again, hearing his footsteps on the ground just behind her. She stopped and faced him. “What?”

Spike raised an eyebrow. “Did you really think I was goin’ to let you walk home alone?”

Dawn lifted her chin. “I can take care of myself.”

Spike shrugged. “Suit yourself.”

Dawn turned and kept walking. This time, she couldn’t hear Spike, but she could feel his presence. For a moment, she was tempted to yell at him, and then she reconsidered. Although she wouldn’t admit it out loud, Dawn felt quite a bit safer with Spike at her back, following her home.

They walked in silence all the way to her front yard, and then she turned to say something—although what she didn’t know. Spike had somehow disappeared, however, and she couldn’t see him anywhere.

“What are you doing?” Buffy demanded, coming out of the front door. “I told you not to walk by yourself after dark, Dawn. Why didn’t you call me?”

“Spike walked me home,” Dawn replied, mostly telling the truth. She chose not to mention the vampire that Spike had dusted, since it would only make things worse. Besides, she was alive, wasn’t she? All’s well that ended well.

Buffy’s face softened. “Well, I guess that’s okay. How—did he look alright?”

“He wasn’t talking crazy, if that’s what you mean,” Dawn replied. “We didn’t have much to say to each other.”

Buffy winced. “Yeah.”

“I still don’t get you guys,” Dawn muttered as she walked past her sister into the house.

“What do you mean?” Buffy asked.

Dawn glared at her sister. “You wouldn’t have dragged him out of the school basement if you didn’t care about him a little bit, Buffy.”

Buffy flushed. “I told you; I feel for him.”

“Right.” Dawn stared at her sister. “Then why don’t you talk to him, Buffy?”

Her sister shook her head. “I don’t think that’s a good idea. He’s going through something, and—”

“So, his soul qualifies him for your help, but only up to a certain point?” Dawn asked, suddenly angry at her sister. “You’ll pull him out of the basement, but you won’t do anything about what’s making him crazy?”

“That’s none of your business,” Buffy said tightly.

“How is it none of my business?” Dawn demanded. “Spike tries to rape you, and yet you’re okay with him walking me home?”

Buffy took an audible breath. “There are a lot of things about our relationship that you don’t understand,” she stated. “Things that I’m not going to tell you, because they’re private, and you don’t need to know. Spike wouldn’t hurt you, though. That much I’m certain of.”

“Fine.” Dawn stalked up the stairs, not knowing who she was more angry at: Spike—for deserting her and hurting Buffy, or her sister—for lying to her all last year about what was going on between her and the vampire.

She could put the pieces together for herself. While she knew that Spike had been obsessed with the Slayer, enough so that he paid no attention to her once Buffy was back, she had a feeling that Buffy also had had something to do with his decision not to come around. Buffy had been so intent on hiding her relationship with Spike, and therefore Dawn never saw Spike—nor did anyone else.

Maybe Spike still would have ignored her even if Buffy hadn’t been so desperately trying to prevent anyone from discovering their activities, but Dawn had to wonder. Wouldn’t Spike have come around the house more? He’d spent plenty of time there before that. If he’d been around, Dawn couldn’t help but think that last year would have been different.

Although, with the way the Hellmouth worked, there was no way to tell if it would have been better; it could easily have been worse.

Dawn couldn’t help but remember the night she’d confronted Spike about his liaison with Anya; he’d told her that his relationship with Buffy was complicated, and now she understood. Buffy had been having sex with him and lying about it, and then she’d broken up with him. Dawn had been able to get that much out of her sister.

If Dawn felt betrayed by Buffy’s lies, how had Spike felt?

As angry as she was with him for abandoning her, and for his actions regarding Buffy, Dawn felt for him. It wasn’t pity so much as it was a glimmer of understanding, and the aching desire for things to be the way they had been.

~~~~~

Dawn wondered if she was making a mistake. It didn’t _feel_ like a mistake, although she was unaccountably nervous. After all, this was Spike; she’d threatened to set him on fire recently, and he hadn’t so much as blinked.

She knocked on Xander’s door, knowing that he would be working, and she wouldn’t have to worry about him interrupting. When she didn’t get an answer, Dawn knocked again, louder this time. “Come on, Spike,” she muttered. “I know you’re in there.”

The door swung open slowly, and Spike faced her, his eyes wary. “Harris isn’t here.”

“I wasn’t looking for Xander,” Dawn replied.

Spike frowned. “Yeah? You here to set me on fire, then?”

Dawn raised empty hands. “I didn’t bring anything like that. Besides, you haven’t hurt Buffy recently.”

He stepped away from the entrance. “You comin’ in?”

Dawn entered, glancing around the interior. She hadn’t been over there much since the wedding-that-wasn’t. It looked a lot more like a bachelor pad now than it had when Anya had been living there, although she couldn’t have put her finger on _why_ exactly. “Nice. Where are you sleeping?”

Spike jerked his thumb over his shoulder. “The closet. What can I do for you, Dawn?”

Dawn was struck once again by how much things had changed. It hurt so badly right then, she was momentarily speechless. When she finally found her voice, she said, “I wanted to thank you. For walking me home last night.”

Spike shrugged. “Least I could do. If that’s it—”

“Why did you do it?” Dawn blurted out, needing to know.

He raised an eyebrow, cocking his head to the side. “Do what?”

“Get your soul,” Dawn said. “I mean, you had to know that it wouldn’t make a difference.”

Spike’s face darkened. “I didn’t do it so the Slayer would feel differently.”

“Not like that,” Dawn said impatiently. “I mean you had to know that the _soul_ doesn’t make a difference. After what Xander did to Anya, and Willow almost ending the world, not to mention all the damage that Warren caused last year. The soul doesn’t prevent people from doing something bad.”

Spike shrugged. “Knew I had to do somethin’ different. After…” He trailed off. “Had to change, that’s all.”

Dawn suddenly understood. Spike really had believed that the soul would prevent him from hurting Buffy again, rightly or wrongly. He didn’t have any better idea of what a soul did, or what it was for, than anyone else.

Spike was just as lost as the rest of them were, even with his century and more of experience. Dawn had always thought of Spike as somehow above all the confusion that often infected her and the others. To her, Spike had been the cool older brother who would always be there for her.

Dawn now knew how unrealistic that idea had been.

“Look, I’m sorry,” Spike said suddenly, meeting her eyes for the first time since she’d arrived. “I wasn’t around last year.”

She took a deep breath. “It’s okay.”

He shook his head stubbornly. “No, it’s not. I shouldn’t have—” Spike stopped. “Shouldn’t have left like that.”

“I know what Buffy asked you to do,” Dawn said. “I mean, I know that she didn’t want you coming around or anything, and that you guys were having sex or whatever.”

He gave her a pained smile. “Yeah. Whatever. That about describes it.”

Dawn swallowed, wondering if things would ever be okay between the two of them again, if they would ever recapture that spark. “You were there for me last night,” she offered, wanting to give him something.

A smile touched his lips. “S’pose so.” He glanced towards the window. “Won’t your sister be lookin’ for you soon?”

Dawn shrugged. “I’ve got some time. As long as I’m home before it gets dark.” She gave him a sly look. “Unless you want to walk me home again?”

“Say the word,” Spike replied. “Be happy to help out.”

If Spike was forced to walk her home, he might run into Buffy, and then she would have to say _something_ to him. Maybe if Dawn threw them together often enough, Buffy would figure out how it was that she felt.

As for their relationship, Dawn suspected that it wouldn’t ever be the same again. She would never see Spike quite as she had in the past, but maybe this was better. Maybe Dawn was seeing him more clearly, and if that was the case—

Well, maybe this time their relationship wouldn’t be broken so easily.

“I’ve got some Spanish homework,” Dawn said. “And Willow took French.”

Spike nodded slowly, some emotion kindling behind his eyes. Dawn thought it might be hope. “I could probably help you out with that.”

Dawn set her backpack down on the table and began rummaging through it, pausing to look at Spike, who had taken a seat at the table. He had that same expression on his face that he’d had so often during that summer—the one where Dawn knew she had his full attention.

“I’m having trouble with the imperative tense,” she admitted.

Spike leaned forward to look at her book. “Let’s see what you’ve got, then we’ll go from there.”

~~~~~

Spike hadn’t been entirely honest when he’d told Dawn that he wasn’t following her. It would have been closer to the truth to say that he hadn’t _meant_ to follow her; his initial plan had been to go out and get drunk. When he’d spotted her walking alone, however, he’d changed his mind.

He’d screwed up a lot of things where both Dawn and Buffy were concerned, but he wasn’t about to let her get killed if there was something he could do to prevent it.

As much as Spike wanted to make things right with the girl, though, he found her anger hard to bear, perhaps because he knew that Dawn had no idea of what had gone on between him and Buffy. He wanted to tell her, to shove his own anger and hurt in her face, but he hadn’t.

Spike couldn’t; it would hurt her, and there had been enough of that.

So, Dawn showing up at Xander’s door, looking for him was something of a surprise, although it turned out to be a pleasant one. At least she hadn’t come to set him on fire.

“What’s it like?” Dawn asked, out of the blue.

“What’s that?” Spike wasn’t sure what she was asking about.

“The soul, having one,” Dawn replied. “I mean, Angel was always brooding, but you went crazy, and now you’re not. I was just wondering what it was like.”

Spike had no idea where to begin, how to describe what it was like for the demon not to be in control. Mostly it had to do with the fact that he saw people as people these days, rather than as a food source. He knew that each time he had fed represented a life taken, and a whole host of people left behind. The guilt was crippling, the burden almost more than he could handle most days.

Dawn had been right—a soul didn’t keep a person from doing things they knew were wrong, or from hurting those they loved. What a soul did was allow Spike to walk past a stranger on the street and care for them, for their lives.

And that in itself was an unwelcome burden, after not caring for so very long.

“Hard to describe,” he finally said, realizing that she was still waiting for his answer. “Hurts.”

“But you’re not crazy now,” Dawn observed.

“Not so you’d notice.” Spike, wanting to change the subject, tried to direct her attention back towards her Spanish lesson. “You’ll want to roll your R’s a bit more. Probably the only thing lacking in your accent right now. You’re comin’ along nicely, Dawn.”

Dawn frowned. “What happened?”

Spike was beginning to remember how annoying Dawn could be when she sunk her teeth into a topic and wouldn’t let it go. It was twenty questions with her, and she wouldn’t be put off. Then again, maybe he owed her a few explanations—the ones he _could_ give her, at least. “Dunno. I was fine ‘til I got back here, an’ then something got to me.”

“Something under the school?” Dawn asked. “That would mean it’s coming from the Hellmouth.”

“I don’t know, Dawn,” Spike said. “I just know that I kept seein’ people who were dead, or who had died. They talked to me.”

“What did they say?”

“Lots of things.” There was no way Spike was going to detail any of those conversations; most of them weren’t fit for a girl’s ears. “You know, if you’re goin’ to get home before dark—”

She leaned back in her chair and crossed her arms over her chest. “I thought you were walking me home.”

“I could,” Spike allowed.

“Good.” She smiled brightly. “You can tell me what Africa was like.”

“Wasn’t there to sight-see,” Spike responded with a raised eyebrow. He had no idea what had gotten into the chit. One day she’s refusing to talk to him, and the next she wouldn’t shut up. What the bloody hell was the girl about? “And then, after…” He trailed off.

Dawn gave him a curiously sympathetic look. “It hurt too much to see anything else, huh?”

“Yeah.” Spike sighed. “You’d better at least call your sister an’ let her know where you are. I’m not goin’ to be responsible for her goin’ ballistic when the sun goes down an’ you’re not there.”

“Okay,” she said, agreeing cheerfully enough.

Spike knew that she was up to something. Her devious little brain had worked out some plan, and she was going to get herself in deep trouble. He could feel it.

Watching her talk to Buffy on the phone through narrowed eyes, Spike knew that he’d be keeping a close watch on her the next few days until he figured out what she was up to.

There was no way he was going to allow her to get hurt—not again. Not if he could help it.

~~~~~~

The banging on the door woke Spike from a sound sleep, and he sat up, groggy and disoriented. Sleep was elusive these days, and when it did come, he tended to sleep more deeply as a result of his constant exhaustion.

“Spike!”

“Come in,” he called, recognizing Buffy’s voice.

She burst into his room, panic evident in her expression. “Do you know where Dawn is?”

“At school?” Spike hazarded. Xander had apparently left the apartment door unlocked, which he tended to do rather often since Spike was usually there during the day.

Buffy shook her head. “It’s Saturday. She left the house early this morning, and I haven’t seen her since.”

Spike frowned. His internal clock indicated that the sun was nearly down, and he had no idea where Dawn might be. “I don’t know where she is,” he finally said.

“You walked her home last night,” Buffy pointed out. “She didn’t say anything to you?”

“She had a lot of questions about the soul an’ Africa an’ such.” Spike raised an eyebrow. “You want to turn around, Slayer?”

She flushed and did as he asked, pushing the door closed before he could say anything. “I thought maybe she might have said something.”

Spike pulled on his clothing quickly, the sense of dread that had begun yesterday when Dawn had questioned him burgeoning into full-fledged alarm. He suddenly knew exactly where she would have gone.

He just wasn’t sure he wanted to tell Buffy.

“Maybe we should split up,” he suggested, reaching around Buffy for the jacket hanging on the doorknob. “You take one part of town an’ I’ll take the other.”

Spike watched as she swallowed. “Okay. But can’t you just sniff the air and find her somehow?”

“An’ how long ago would that be?” Spike asked, praying that she didn’t insist upon it. He probably could catch Dawn’s scent, particularly since he had a very good idea of where the girl was headed. There was no way that he was going to admit that he might have contributed to Dawn’s delinquency, though.

Not that he’d encouraged her _at all_, but that probably wasn’t how Buffy would see it.

“Good point,” Buffy admitted. “Okay. Come by the house once you’ve found her, or check in later to see if I have, I guess. I can check the Bronze, if you’ll check the coffee shop first. After that, I guess I’ll check everywhere Dawn might go.”

“Right.” Spike walked her outside, then set off in the opposite direction that Buffy was heading.

“Spike!” Buffy called after him.

He half-turned to look at her. “Yeah?”

“Thanks.”

Spike offered her what he hoped looked like a smile, then started walking. He waited until he was sure that Buffy wouldn’t see him and loped off in the direction of the high school.

There was a part of him that wondered what the hell he was thinking. If whatever was in the basement of the school got its clutches into him again, Buffy would have to drag the both of them out. Not a thought that he relished.

As soon as he stepped through the doors, he could feel it. There was something evil in this school, something using the Hellmouth for its own ends, and it wanted to use him as well. “Shit,” Spike muttered, gripping the doorway. “What the bloody hell were you thinkin’ Dawn?”

He could smell her; she’d come through here, and fairly recently as well. Spike followed the faint traces towards the basement, cursing every step of the way. He didn’t know what it was about this place, but it tore at his sanity. He kept hearing _their_ voices.

And then he heard Dawn.

“Let go of me!”

Her shriek was loud enough to pierce his eardrums, and Spike started running, nearly taking a tumble on the stairs, and then skidding to a stop in one corner of the basement that he recognized rather well.

Dawn was being held by a burly man in a robe while another pulled out a knife. Their eyes were gone, completely scarred over. Neither spoke as the one holding her forced her arm out.

“Let her go,” Spike ground out, trying to focus on Dawn.

He could hear Buffy laughing behind him. “Do you really think you have a prayer of saving her? You’re pathetic, Spike.”

“Shut up!” he shouted over his shoulder. “You’re not her!”

“I’m not?” she asked coyly. “You’re going to fail Dawn, just like you’ve always failed everyone.”

Spike shook his head, turning back to Dawn just in time to see her kick out at the man with a knife, knocking him back. Spike sprang into action, going after the one with a weapon first, knowing that he had to prevent Dawn from getting cut—although he couldn’t have said _how_ he knew. If those bastards wanted her to bleed, then it was imperative that he prevent it from occurring.

He’d grabbed a stake before leaving Xander’s apartment, and he ducked the man’s knife and put it through his heart, surprised when the chip didn’t fire. Seemed like they weren’t quite human.

“Spike!”

Dawn’s cry had him spinning on his heel to see the second man cut her wrist with one quick stroke of his knife. “Dawn!”

It was that night on the tower all over—he had failed her once again. With a roar, Spike leapt, taking both of them down at the same time. With one movement, Spike snapped the man’s neck, and he quickly grabbed Dawn’s arm, pressing her bleeding wrist to her stomach. “Hold it there,” he ordered tersely. “Best not to bleed in here.”

“Where?” Dawn asked, pale with fear and shock.

“If I don’t miss my guess, we’re right on top of the Hellmouth,” Spike replied. He glanced back over her shoulder, seeing Drusilla approaching. “Get out of here.”

“I’m not leaving you,” Dawn replied.

Spike hauled Dawn to her feet—gently, though. “This isn’t a good place for you.”

“No, it’s not,” Drusilla agreed. “Send the girl away, Spike. She’s going to bleed, and it will be such a beautiful sight.”

“Upstairs, Nibblet,” Spike ordered. “I’ll be right behind you.” He knew that it wasn’t Drusilla standing in front of him, but he couldn’t help but be drawn into her eyes. Spike couldn’t leave until he knew what her purpose was.

What it wanted from him.

“But Spike—”

“Now!” he said, hoping that she’d listen to him for once. Spike didn’t want her in the basement any longer. It was too dangerous.

There was something very wrong here.

~~~~~

Dawn waited for Spike at the top of the stairs. She’d grabbed a wad of paper towels to put over her bleeding wrist. There was a part of her that wanted to call Buffy and confess her stupidity. There was another part of her that knew she’d be grounded into the next century, and if she could avoid that outcome, she would.

She was worried about Spike, though. He still hadn’t emerged from the basement.

“Crap,” Dawn said, shifting from foot to foot, trying to figure out what she should do. Maybe she should call Buffy, because if Spike got stuck down in the basement again—

“Dawn?” Spike’s face was drawn and set as he came out of the doors. “You okay?” he asked.

“Me? I’m fine,” she quickly replied. “But are you okay? I mean, you were talking to somebody that wasn’t there.”

“It was there, but I don’t know what it was exactly,” he replied. “Somethin’ that wants out, that’s for sure.” Spike sighed. “Come on. We’re gonna have to tell your sister about this.”

Dawn grimaced. “Really?”

“I’m goin’ to have to tell her about the dead bodies,” Spike replied, leading her out of the building. “An’ you’re goin’ to have to explain that cut on your arm somehow.”

Dawn gave him her best puppy dog eyes. “Couldn’t we just forget that part?”

He shook his head, refusing to meet her eyes. Dawn had a feeling that Spike knew he’d cave if he actually saw her pleading expression. “Not with what’s goin’ on down in the basement.”

Dawn couldn’t help feeling a little smug. “I _told_ Buffy she should figure out what was making you crazy.”

Spike shook his head, not replying.

“What are you going to tell her?” Dawn asked.

He sighed. “Hell if I know. She’s just gonna find a way to blame me for you nearly getting yourself killed.”

Dawn didn’t like the sound of that, although she knew that Spike was probably right. At least, Buffy would try to blame him as long as Dawn didn’t take responsibility. While it would probably be easier for her to let Spike take the fall, she knew that it wouldn’t be fair.

“Let’s see your wrist,” he said. “Didn’t want to risk lookin’ inside.” Dawn held out her arm, feeling a shiver go up her spine as he held her arm gently. “It’s deep.” Spike frowned, obviously worried. “You might need stitches.”

“I’m sure it’s not that bad,” Dawn replied. “I really don’t need to go to the doctor.”

“Sorry, Bit,” Spike replied. “Better safe than sorry. We’ll call Buffy from the hospital.”

“She’s going to kill me,” Dawn muttered.

Spike just raised an eyebrow. “Better you than me.”

“Very funny,” Dawn shot back, although she wasn’t really angry.

In fact, she was truly grateful for Spike’s presence right then. It didn’t seem very likely that Buffy would kill her in front of him.

~~~~~

Spike braced himself for the explosion when Buffy came bursting into the emergency room. The doctor had informed them that Dawn would need stitches, and Spike had signed the consent forms as one “William Summers.” It was the same way he’d dealt with Dawn’s broken arm last year.

He really wondered what the social workers thought of all these mysterious accidents.

Dawn had told the doctors that she’d fallen and put her arm through a plate glass window, and Spike had quickly backed her story up. It was as good a lie as any.

“Dawn?” Buffy called. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine, Buffy,” Dawn replied. “William took care of me.”

Spike could see the wheels turning in Buffy’s head, but she’d been lying to authority figures for far too long not to catch on quickly. “Thanks, William.” He could detect only the faintest note of sarcasm in her voice.

“It’s my pleasure to help,” he replied, using the same cultured tones he had with the doctors.

Buffy’s eyes widened, but she didn’t say anything. “When can I take her home?” she asked the doctor, who was finishing up the stitches.

“Pretty much now,” the young intern replied cheerfully. “You need to be more careful, young lady,” he told Dawn.

“Absolutely,” Dawn promised, a very forced smile on her face. “Let’s get out of here, Buffy.”

As soon as they were clear of the exam area, Buffy hissed at Spike, “What the hell happened?”

Spike opened his mouth to reply, but before he could say anything, Dawn piped up, “It was my fault, Buffy. I wanted to investigate what was in the school basement, and these guys probably would have killed me if Spike hadn’t shown up.”

Buffy frowned, looking from one to the other suspiciously. “Spike?”

“We’re goin’ to have to go back,” Spike replied. “Left a couple of bodies, an’ there’s something up.”

“When isn’t there something up?” Buffy asked rhetorically. She glared at Dawn. “You are going home, and you’re going to stay there, understand? And you’re grounded for the next week.”

“Can Spike still help me with my Spanish?” Dawn asked hopefully.

Buffy didn’t look terribly pleased by the question. “Yes, but only if he wants to.”

Spike raised his eyebrows at that response; he was more than a little surprised that Buffy would agree to Dawn spending time with him. “I don’t mind,” he offered.

Buffy nodded reluctantly. “Fine. Let’s go.”

All three of them walked to the Summers’ residence in silence, and Spike was more than a little wary of where Buffy was going with this. She hadn’t said more than three words to him since she’d dragged him out of the basement. Once they reached the house, Buffy said, “I should probably get weapons. Dawn, say goodnight to Spike.”

“Good night, Spike,” Dawn said obediently, rolling her eyes.

Spike smiled. “’Night.”

He waited out on the front porch for Buffy to rejoin him, still not comfortable entering her house after what had transpired between them. “You want to tell me what happened?” Buffy asked.

Spike shrugged. “Thought she might have gone back to the school, so I decided to check it out. There were two men there when I arrived.”

“Humans?” Buffy asked.

Spike shook his head. “Not anymore, anyway. They were wearin’ robes, an’ their eyes were gone. Didn’t seem to make much difference as far as them seein’ though.”

Buffy cursed so creatively that Spike’s eyes widened in appreciation. “I should have known,” she muttered.

“Known what?”

“The First,” Buffy replied. “It really likes souled vampires, and it really likes making my life miserable.”

“Thought that was my job,” Spike joked weakly.

Buffy shook her head but didn’t reply. “What did you do with them?”

“Put a stake in one and broke the neck of the other.” Spike hesitated. “Not sure what they were plannin’, but it was obvious that they wanted Dawn’s blood for somethin’. Might not be the best idea to let her go to school on Monday if we don’t have this sorted by then.” He smiled ruefully. “After all, I won’t be there to keep an eye on her.”

Buffy nodded. “If we can’t nip this in the bud, I’ll keep Dawn home, tell them she’s got mono or something.” She looked over at him. “Why didn’t you tell me what was haunting you?”

“I didn’t know,” Spike said, stung. “All I knew was that I was seein’ people I’d killed, among others, an’ they were talkin’ to me. Figured it was the soul drivin’ me crazy.”

“That’s part of it,” Buffy said quietly. “I mean, that’s how it gets to vampires. It went after Angel a few years ago.”

“That makes me feel special,” Spike muttered, shoving his hands deep into his pockets.

Buffy grimaced. “Yeah, well, you and me both. At least it didn’t show up at Christmas this year, because that was really annoying.”

“What is this thing exactly?” Spike asked.

Buffy shrugged. “The First Evil, existed since the beginning of time, more powerful than I can imagine, blah, blah, blah. The point is that it’s incorporeal, and it can only work through other people or things.”

“An’ it was trying to work through me? Just bloody great,” Spike said.

Buffy offered him a smile. “If it makes you feel any better, Angel did a lot worse; he was ready to commit suicide by sunlight. The only reason he wasn’t killed was because of this freak snow storm.”

“That makes me feel a lot better,” Spike replied, not meaning it.

Buffy shot him a look, and the corners of her lips tilted upwards. Spike thought it might have been the first time that she actually smiled in his presence, at something he’d said. “You’re nothing like him.”

“That’s what a bloke likes to hear,” he said. “You know what we’re lookin’ for?”

Buffy shook her head. “Not really. Last time, it took up residence under a Christmas tree lot, and the trees above it died. If it’s in a building, there’s really no telling.”

“I’m sorry ‘bout Dawn,” Spike offered. “Didn’t mean to let her get hurt again.”

Buffy sighed. “Come on, Spike. This one was all Dawn being sneaky. You didn’t have anything to do with it.”

Spike raised an eyebrow. “That’s not what I expected you to say.”

“You thought I’d blame you?” Buffy asked incredulously.

Spike refused to look at her. “You have in the past,” he muttered.

She didn’t reply, and the silence hung between them uncomfortably. Spike still loved her, but there was a part of him that hated being around her. It hurt too damn much.

When they reached the school, Buffy paused out front, looking up at it. Spike glanced over at her. “Nervous?”

“If you’d seen this thing, you’d be nervous, too.”

“Who says I’m not?” Spike asked.

She met his eyes and then smiled. “I’m not leaving you down there again.”

Spike swallowed, feeling something kindling in his chest. If he didn’t know better, he might have said it was hope. “Let’s go,” he said. “Sooner we figure this out, sooner we can leave.”

The halls were quiet as they made their way towards the basement. “I can’t believe that it set up shop here this time,” Buffy said.

“Maybe it didn’t,” Spike said. “Could be it was just usin’ the Hellmouth somehow.”

Buffy shook her head. “Do you think it could have opened the Hellmouth with Dawn’s blood?”

“I have no bloody clue,” Spike replied. “But I didn’t want to find out.”

“Yeah.”

They stood in front of the doors to the basement. “Ladies first,” Spike said.

Buffy gave him a dirty look, but she preceded him readily enough. They found the dead bodies easily, but there was no other sign that anything had taken up residence in the basement.

At least, no visible signs.

“I can’t believe you came back.”

Spike whirled to see Angelus sneering at him. “No,” he muttered. “Not real.”

“Spike? What is it?” Buffy asked.

“Yeah, Spike, what is it?” Whatever it was looked like Buffy now, even down to the clothes she was wearing. “You’re crazy. You know that, right? You’re a danger to Dawn, to everyone.”

Spike shook his head, trying to dislodge her words. “No. Stop it.”

He felt a hand on his arm and looked down into Buffy’s concerned eyes. “Spike. Look at me.”

“Slayer?”

“That’s right,” Buffy said quietly. “What are you seeing?”

“You,” Spike replied.

“It’s a lie.” Buffy looked fierce. “Whatever, whoever, you’re seeing, it’s a lie. I’m right here, and we’re the only people down here. Can you figure out where this _thing_ is at?”

Spike didn’t want to do anything of the sort, but he couldn’t tell her no. Nodding jerkily, he turned to face the ghost of his past. He started when he felt a hand slip into his own, and he turned sharply to see Buffy looking at him, compassion in her eyes. “So you know which one of us real.”

He swallowed and focused, leading Buffy into the recesses of the school basement. Spike still didn’t believe that the men in robes had taken up residence there, although there had been some very strange things going on.

Spike could have sworn that the hallways seemed to change from time to time, because he turned a corner and knew he’d never been in that area before. There was a small brazier, and Buffy let go of his hand to kick it over, her face twisted in anger.

“Do you really think that’s going to get rid of me?”

Spike turned to see his double, and he froze. He was shocked when Buffy came to stand in front of him. “I don’t care,” Buffy spat. “You’re not getting him.”

“But souled vampires are so much fun.” The demon’s eyes glowed yellow in the dim light. “And this one is even more susceptible than Angel was.”

Buffy’s eyes narrowed. “What are you talking about?”

“It’s all about the guilt, and this one is full of it where you’re concerned.” It shifted so that it looked like Buffy. “Wearing this face, I think I could convince him to do anything.”

Buffy laughed. “Are you kidding? Spike has never listened to me.”

That wasn’t exactly true, but Spike wasn’t going to interrupt. “Really?” the other Buffy asked. “Because he was all ears when I had him to myself.”

“Too bad you won’t get him all to yourself again, isn’t it?” Buffy asked.

The other Buffy smirked. “Just wait. You’ll leave him alone, and I’ll have another shot at him.”

Spike knew it spoke the truth; the guilt was overwhelming, and he had a hard enough time dealing with it when there wasn’t some spook playing on every insecurity that he had.

The real Buffy’s eyes narrowed. “Then I’ll just have to make sure he’s not alone, won’t I? Because you’re not getting your claws into him.”

“I already have my claws in him,” the First replied, grinning. “You won’t save this one.”

“You know, I always hated being told what I could and couldn’t do,” Buffy snapped.

The First laughed. “This souled vampire will be mine.” With a shriek, Buffy’s form dissolved into the head of a ravening beast and then disappeared.

“I really hate that,” Buffy said with a grimace. She turned to look at him. “I hate to say it, but Dawn was right. I should have investigated this before now.”

Spike shook his head. “Not your fault, pet. You couldn’t have known.”

“Because it made a lot of sense for you to be crazy in the school basement, especially after I found out you had your soul.” Buffy leaned up against the wall heavily.

“Not your fault,” Spike repeated.

“I should have dragged you out of here a long time ago.” Buffy shot him an apologetic look.

Spike shrugged; he had no idea what to do with a Buffy who actually apologized—and sounded like she meant it. “So, now what?”

“Now we turn over every rock in this town looking for the Bringers, and I make sure you aren’t alone,” Buffy replied.

Spike shook his head. “Don’t think that’s necessary. Haven’t seen anything out of the ordinary at Xander’s.”

Buffy’s chin took on a stubborn tilt. “Don’t argue with me.”

Spike raised his hands in a gesture of surrender. “Yeah, okay.”

“Come on,” Buffy said. “I’ll walk you home. Xander should be back by now.”

Spike nodded, not trusting himself to say anything. He had no idea what to say to Buffy these days; there was a large part of him that wanted to leave Sunnydale for good. He’d come back to apologize, to give Buffy a chance to stake him if that was what she wanted. Turned out that he was just making things harder on her.

They walked back towards Xander’s apartment quietly. Spike couldn’t help but wonder what it was Buffy wanted from him; she didn’t seem real keen on letting him get hurt, although that didn’t necessarily mean anything. Buffy had always had a well-developed sense of duty.

They stopped in front of Xander’s building, and Spike shuffled his feet. “Guess I’ll see you around, Slayer.”

“Yes, you will,” Buffy replied. “Tomorrow night, in fact.”

“What’s tomorrow night?” Spike asked.

“Tomorrow night is when you come over to help Dawn with her Spanish homework, and then we go hunting for Bringers,” Buffy replied.

Spike frowned. “Your house?”

“Yeah, since Dawn’s grounded,” Buffy said. “I’ll pick you up around six.”

He swallowed hard. “Guess I’ll see you then.”

Buffy half turned to go, then stopped, facing him again. “I’m glad you came back, Spike.”

Spike nodded, unable to reply. “Thanks,” he finally said hoarsely.

“Good night, Spike.”

“’Night,” he called, watching her walk away.

Maybe he had done the right thing by coming back to face his past; Spike might have even given himself a future.

~~~~~

Dawn knew that she probably should have gone to bed, but she wanted to make sure that Buffy was okay—and that she hadn’t killed Spike. Now that he was going to be around again, Dawn didn’t really want to do without him.

The front door opened quietly, waking Dawn out of her half-doze. “Buffy?” she called.

“You were supposed to be in bed,” Buffy said severely.

“I wanted to be sure you guys were okay,” Dawn argued. “Where’s Spike?”

“I dropped him back off at Xander’s,” Buffy replied. She sat down on the couch next to her sister. “Are you okay?”

“My arm hurts a little, but it’s not bad,” Dawn said.

Buffy grimaced. “What’s one more scar, huh?”

“Something like that,” Dawn agreed. “Do you know what was in the basement?”

“The First Evil,” Buffy replied. “Apparently, it really likes souled vampires.”

Dawn frowned, trying to remember where she’d heard of it before and recalled a conversation she’d overheard between her sister and Willow. Not that she was supposed to be listening in, but Dawn wouldn’t know half of what went on if she didn’t sneak around occasionally. “That was the thing that went after Angel, right?”

“That’s right.” Buffy leaned her head back against the couch.

“Did you stop it?” Dawn asked.

Buffy shook her head. “I don’t know. It threatened to come back. Spike and I are going hunting for the Bringers tomorrow.”

“Then you’re talking to him now?” Dawn asked.

“We’re talking.” Buffy glared at her. “And what the hell were you thinking, going into the school basement like that alone?”

“I wanted to find out what was going on.” Dawn crossed her arms over her chest. “It’s not like you were going to ever talk to Spike again.”

“That’s not true,” Buffy replied. “You’re going to have to let us sort things out on our own, Dawn. We both did a lot of damage.”

“And now he has his soul,” Dawn observed. “It’s kind of weird, huh?”

“You can say that again,” Buffy agreed.

Dawn looked at her sister. “Have you forgiven him?”

Buffy’s eyes went very far away. “Yeah. He’s suffering enough right now, and with the First after him…” She sat up. “Spike’s coming over tomorrow night to help you with your Spanish before we go out on patrol.”

“Then I can hang out with him again?” Dawn asked.

Buffy frowned. “I thought you wanted to set him on fire.”

Dawn shook her head. “Not anymore.” She didn’t explain more than that, couldn’t explain that Spike had apologized for leaving her, or that Dawn wanted Spike around more than she wanted to hold onto her grudge.

Unlike Buffy, who seemed to think that Spike getting his soul solved all their problems—or at least many of them—Dawn had realized that Spike was just as big of a screw-up as the rest of them were. She couldn’t refuse to forgive him if she had forgiven Buffy for trying to kill her, or Willow for trying to end the world, or Xander for breaking Anya’s heart.

She knew that now.

There was no way she was going to try and explain that to Buffy, however, and so Dawn stood. “Good night, Buffy.”

“’Night, Dawnie.”

Dawn climbed the stairs and felt a smile grow. Although going to the school basement hadn’t been the smartest idea she’d ever had, Dawn had accomplished her goal. Buffy and Spike were talking again, and he was coming over to their house. She was glad she’d gone to talk to him.

It seemed like you had to face the past to move forward. Dawn had learned that much, at least. Now she just had to wait for Buffy to figure it out.


End file.
